What're Brothers For?
by Rainnboots
Summary: Carlos loses his brother Gabe's beloved dog Sparky. Baby!BTR


**Author's Note: **So this is a total impulse story, written over an hour on a crazy whim. I've seen a couple fics on the site lately about Carlos losing a pet named Sparky (this was apparently mentioned in BTAudtions...?), and decided I'd try writing one. This story features my OC, Gabe Garcia, an older brother of Carlos' that I introduced in my story "_Finding My Religion." _In this story, Gabe is sixteen and Carlos is ten. This is unbeta'd, so any and all mistakes are mine. Also, quick shout out to my girl **21Soccer-Diva21. **She's awesome, her writing's awesome, and you should definitely check her stuff out when you get a minute. Okay, that is all for today. Enjoy! And as always, **_PLEASE REVIEW!_**

**Disclaimer:** Any recognizable names and/or places are the property of their respective owners.

**Warnings: **None!

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><p>Carlos stood up on his pedals, wind whipping gently past his face as he cruised down the street. He adjusted his hands on the rubber grips as he sat back down, fingers grazing the leash attached to the handle bar. Trotting a few feet in front of him, collar jingling, was Sparky. Sparky wasn't Carlos' dog — his parents said he wasn't <em>responsible<em> enough to have his own pet. Sparky belonged to his older brother, Gabe. He found Sparky one day huddled by the trash cans in their driveway one night, sick and skinny as death, and — after much convincing and promises to his parents — nursed her back to health. She was healthy as a horse in two months time, her coal black coat and bright blue eyes restored to their former shine; Gabe's pride and joy. "The only girl for me," he would say.

So, naturally, when Carlos took her out for walks, he had to be really very extra careful with her, because she was Gabe's, after all, and Carlos had not yet forgotten Gabe's promise to "pummel you into a billion little pieces if you ever let anything happen to Sparky."

Carlos pulled over to the side, Sparky looking back as she felt a small tug on her collar.

"C'mere, Sparky," said Carlos, taking a seat on the curb and pulling off his helmet. He wiped a thin layer of sweat from his forehead as he tugged the leash handle off his handlebars, setting it besie him, pulling the waterbottle off the frame of his bike and taking a long sip. He offered some to Sparky, waterfalling a stream into her open mouth. He crossed his legs and set his chin on his fist, running his free hand from the base of her neck all the way down her back, combing his fingers through her fur. He scratched under her chin, smiling when she licked his forehead.

"I don't get why Gabe thinks I can't take care of you by myself. I'm doing just fine, don't you think, Sparky?" Carlos said. He smiled, taking both sides of her face in his hand and staring at her straight on. He scratched her ears affectionately. "You're a good girl, aren't you, Sparky? Yes you are, you're a very good girl—"

Sparky pulled her face from Carlos' hand, snapping her neck over her shoulder, ears perked up and at attention. Carlos turned his gaze to match hers, squinting as a bright orange cat crawled out from under a bush.

Sparky set off at a run, Carlos barely having time to react before she was halfway down the street.

"SPARKY!" Carlos shouted, taking off after her. He skidding to a halt, remembering his bike, and ran back towards the curb. He pulled his helmet roughly down his head and climbed on his bike, pedalling fiercely. Sparky turned the curb, barking all the while, leash catching in the wind behind her.

"Sparky, _Sparky!_" Carlos called. "Come _here!_ It's just a cat, leave it alone! Come on!"

Carlos hung a tight left, taking the same turn the dog did, and set off again. He couldn't see Sparky anymore, her barks sounding farther away with each turn of his wheels.

"Sparky, come back, _please!_" he called, pedalling faster, trying to catch up. "_SPARKY!_"

Carlos took another left, then a right, desperately trying to follow the sounds of her barks. He took another turn, suddenly swerving to avoid a parked car. His front tire skid on a clump of twigs and he was slammed to the ground, helmet knocking against the curb as his arm sliding along the gravel beneath him. He let out a sharp cry of pain, a burning sensation filling his arm, the feeling of rocks sliding along his bare skin. He blinked to readjust his eyes, the world spinning slightly from the crash, then shakily pushed himself up. He shook his head, immediately regretting the action as a painful throb hit just behind his eyes. Carlos hissed as he examined his wounds; deep scrapes ran along his entire left arm, bits of gravel and dirt stuck inside the skin. He knee was scraped, too, and he could feel a bit of blood dripping from a cut along his cheek.

Carlos let out a loud groan as he turned his attention to his bike; the entire front wheel was wrecked, the metal bent from colliding with the curb, and the grip on the handlebars was ripped. Completely unrideable.

And where was he, anyway? Carlos took a look around, the street he'd led himself to almost unrecognizable, the street names unfamiliar. He felt a twinge of panic; was he lost? No, he couldn't be lost. He could find his way back. The sun would set soon, he had to find his way back.

Carlos lifted himself to his feet, picking up his bike, beginning to limp back home. He carefully reversed all the turns he'd taken until he was back on familiar streets, hissing with each step he took.

When he finally made it back, Carlos laid his bike in the backyard, letting himself in through the garage and trekking through the empty house to the bathroom. He opened the cabinet door, thinking back to moments when he'd been hurt before. Normally it was just a small scrape, a little cut; a bit of ointment and a bandaid and he was good to go. But this was more than just a little scrape, definitely not bandaid material. He would need to clean the dirt out of his cuts, but with what? His mom said rubbing alcohol or hydrogen peroxoide could clean cuts, but which one would work better? Carlos knew from experience that rubbing alcohol burned, but hydrogen peroxide always bubbled. Bubbles would have to hurt too, right? And what if it didn't get all the dirt out? His cuts could get infected, attack the muscle and tissue and bones, forcing amputation.

Carlos head throbbed again and he took a seat on the ground, pulling off his helmet. What was he going to do? His dad was at the station, his mom was working at the hospital, and Gabe was—

"Oh no," Carlos moaned, tears filling his eyes. It was nearly six, Gabe would be home from baseball practice any minute. Carlos would have to confess to losing Sparky.

He set his face in his hands, letting out a helpless wail.

He was _dead._

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><p>Gabe pushed his keys through the lock, spining them until it clocked and walking through the front door. He tossed his bag towards the stairs, hanging his keys on the wall by the door, and pulling off his baseball cap.<p>

"Sparky, I'm home! Come on, girl!" Gabe called, walking through the house. "Sparky! _¿Dónde está mi niña hermosa?_"

He clapped his hands, bending low as he searched under the coffee table. He furrowed his brow. "Sparky?"

Gabe moved through the house, looking in the kitchen, the backyard, and the garage.

"Seriously? Sparky? Where are you?" Gabe moved towards the bathroom. "Carlos? Are you—"

Gabe paused, foot in midair as he rounded the corner to the bathroom. Carlos was on the floor, legs crossed, head in his hands, blood dripping down his arm, face, and leg. Gabe dropped to the ground.

"Whoa, Carlos, what the heck happened to you?" asked Gabe, setting his hand on Carlos' head. Carlos took in a gasping breath, glancing at his brother before letting out another wail. Gabe felt his heart skip, a tightening in his stomach

"Talk to me, Goose," Gabe coaxed. "What happened?"

Carlos wiped his face, dropping his hands to his lap. He sniffed.

"I went bike riding earlier, and I crashed," said Carlos. He winced as he shifted his legs, cuts screaming as the movement.

"You're telling me," said Gabe. "That's some _serious_ road rash. Did you break anything?"

"I-I don't think so," said Carlos. His head throbbed once again. "Hit my head though. It really hurts."

"Your _head?_" Gabe gently pulled Carlos' chin towards him, as if to examine the boy. "Were you wearing your helmet?"

"Yeah," said Carlos, fingering the strap that lay beside him.

"I'll get you some Tylenol, okay?" said Gabe, patting his shoulder. "Oh, hey, have you seen Sparky? I can't find her anywhere."

Carlos felt his chin tremble and he sniffed loud, chin bunched up against his mouth.

_It's now or never, _he told himself.

"I lost Sparky," Carlos whispered.

"_What?_"

"I'm sorry!" Carlos cried desperately. "I was out walking her, and I stopped to sit and drink some water, and I took her leash off the handlebars so she could sit by me, and then this cat came along and Sparky started chasing after her. I tried to catch her but she ran too fast and I couldn't find her again. I'm so sorry!

"I can't do anything right," Carlos continued, shaking his head sadly. "I'm such a screw up! And now you're gonna be mad at me because I lost your dog, and Papí's gonna be mad at me because I broke my bike, and Mom's going to be mad at me because I got hurt again_, and_ I ripped my shirt, _and_ I dripped blood on the rug!"

"Carlos—" Gabe began, hand moving from Carlos' shoulder.

"Wait," Carlos said. He grabbed his helmet, pulling it gingerly back over his head. He screwed his eyes up, pulling his hands in protectively towards his chest. "Okay, go, just please do it fast."

Gabe paused, confused. "What?"

"You said you'd pummel me into a billion little pieces if I ever let anything happen to Sparky," Carlos explained.

Gabe sighed, shoulders deflating. He sat down, back pressed against the door, facing Carlos.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Carlos," said Gabe. Carlos peeked open his eyes, shoulders relaxing slightly.

"But I lost Sparky," said Carlos. "You said—"

"I know what I said," said Gabe. "But I didn't actually mean it."

Carlos' shoulders relaxed another small bit. "Really?"

Gabe snorted. "Really."

Carlos slumped back against the cabinet, helmet thumping gently against the wood as he leaned his head back

"I'm sorry," Carlos said quietly. "I didn't mean to lose her, I promise."

Gabe gently touched Carlos' leg, careful to avoid the scrapes. "I know, it's okay, it was an accident. We'll put up lost posters with her picture on them and ask around the neighborhood. She'll come back eventually; she loves me."

Carlos laughed at his brother's inflated ego, picking a bit of gravel out of his knee.

"Okay, I'm gonna go get you some Tylenol and a freezy pop."

"Cherry?"

"Dude, nasty," said Gabe, sticking his tongue out. "Blue raspberry all the way."

"Dude, nasty," Carlos imitated, pulling the same face.

"Fine, _cherry,_" said Gabe. "And I'll call Mom and ask her how to clean you up. Hang tight, alright, _perrito?_"

"I'm not a puppy, _viejito_," said Carlos.

"Sure you're not," said Gabe, smiling. Carlos rolled his eyes as his brother pushed himself up off the bathroom floor.

"Hey Gabe?" said Carlos, looking up at his brother towering above him, lean and long with limbs for days.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for not pummeling me into a billion little pieces. I really didn't want to die before I watched my first PG-13 movie."

Gabe chuckled. "No problem, dude. What're brothers for?"

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><p>Reviews? Anyone? Anyone? ...Bueller?<p> 


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